Stay
by scribbled.ink
Summary: "I always believed that you simply cease to exist when you die. But now… now I'm not so sure. I can't just erase you from my life. Here I am acting like a fool in front of a gravestone; but..." He let out a shaky breath, "you promised. Now you're gone and I'm confused and I don't know what to think. So please; stay." Warnings: Smoking, drugs, self harm, and suicide.
1. Stay

"**To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."**

**\- E. E. Cummings**

* * *

Roy Age: 15

"ROYYY!" Don't answer. Just ignore them.

"ROYYYYYYYYYY!" Don't answer. Just think about the test. Just. Think. About the test.

"ROOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!" The teen covered his ears. Could the two be anymore

annoying? Finals were in one week and he had a huge calculus test that he knew nothing about. Then a loud crash was heard.

"OH MY GOD! WALLY! ARE YOU OK!? ROY! ROY HELP! WALLY'S BLEEDING!" Green eyes shot up, and Roy jumped up from his bed and ran to the door. Swinging it open, he ran down the hall. Coming to the stairs, he slid (and tripped) thanks to the damn socks on his feet, and flung himself down the mansion's staircase.

"Wally!? Wally are you okay!?" He cried out, trying to stop himself and turn a corner (he tripped again).

"Roy! In here! Hurry!" Dick's voice came from his left, and Roy ran. Under his breath, he let out some rather vulgar curses directed at the two idiots in his house.

Now, when Roy came to the scene of the event, he was of course met with the sight of a completely fine Kid Flash and Robin playing video games on his flat screen.

"Bastards," he mumbled, catching his breath. Dick cast him a side glance, and smirked. "I regret you two ever being allowed to stay with me and Ollie for the weekend." He sighed, and sat down on the couch. About to grab some popcorn from a bowl, Wally smacked his hand away, and took the bowl for himself. "Bastards," he repeated.

Dick tossed him a controller.

"We need a third player. Playing COD3 with two people is boooooring." Dick groaned, while jamming his fingers aimlessly on his red controller. Roy, the ever so enthusiastic red head he was, rolled his eyes and grabbed a controller. Turning to the other 'child' in the room, he noticed that Wally threw a grenade in the game. Smart move. The grenade began ticking, and Wally called out a, "Wait," to Dick, before he paused it to grab more popcorn. Still hearing ticking, Roy checked to make sure the game was paused. It was. Eyes widening, he turned to the others.

"Damnit- RUN!" A large (and rather cliche) explosion erupted, and Roy covered his eyes with his sleeve as he Wally and Dick were thrown to the back of the room. Hitting the wall with painful force, he groaned. Fire spread around them.

"What the h-"

"Roy! Wally's hurt! For real!" Next to him, Dick began to shake Wally, who gave no response. A large burn had spread to his side, and a gash covered the entire right side of his face. He pressed a finger to his com link to called some the league. The gash had already began sowing itself up, but Wally still laid on the ground. When static came in response to his call, he growled.

"Dick. Stay with Wally. I'm going to find a way out." Standing up, he almost doubled over in pain. Slowly, he walked towards the flames, and noticed a open door leading to a room on the second floor. Looking back at the others, who were in the same position, he began to unbutton his plaid shirt, which happened to be very flammable. Walking back to the younger ones, he pick Wally up bridal style. "Dickie, I need you to climb on my shoulders. Okay?" Nodding his head, Dick did as he was told. With at least a ten year old and twelve year old adding to his weight, Roy did his best to walk as fast as he could through the flames. Written on one of the walls in blood was

_Your company is mine, Queen._

"Assassination attempt. Must be a tuesday." Once Roy got his brothers to the second floor room, he opened a window. Looking around, he grabbed the quilt from the bed. Outside the window was a tree, but had very few branches. Tying Wally- who had woken up and was now groaning- to his chest, he watched as Dick expertly climbed down the tree. Sighing, he jumping out the window, and hissed as he scraped his hand against the bark. Slowing and cautiously climbing down about five feet to a branch, he jumped the last fifteen feet and made it so the impact hit his back, that way Wally wouldn't feel the blow. He hissed in pain and trembled to his feet. Setting the semi-conscious Wally on the ground, he looked over to Dick, who was lying on the ground, probably calling the Justice League.

The boy looked horrible. His arms were both burnt harshly, and his forehead was soaking with blood and sweat. His knee was without a doubt broken- poor kid. Dick noticed him, and gave a small, forced smile.

"Wally. Is he okay?" Dick asked, obviously trying to direct the attention away from him. Roy looked down at the twelve year old and checked for a pulse. Faint- but there. He nodded and Dick leaned back in relief. He was okay. Wally groaned and squinted at Roy's face.

"R-Roy? You looked horrible," Wally attempted to smile.

"Thanks," he responded sarcastically. He hadn't even thought about his own injuries. "I'm not dead?"

"I would never let that happen."

"Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave."

I promise, Walls. I won't ever leave you." He would've hugged the younger, but that probably wasn't the best idea at the moment.

* * *

Roy Age: 17

Roy watched in horror as water filled the car. This was not happening. He was not going to drown. Jamming his buckle loose, he watched as Wally did the same. Opening his door, he swam onto land. Laying his back against the sand, he breathed deeply.

"Wally, call someone. I'll try to find away up to the bridge. And Dick, you- DICK!" Jerking his eyes back to the vehicle, he saw a small twelve year old sitting in the back seat, eyes closed, and entirely under water. Wally, noticing as well, swam at lightning speed to the car. He yank on the car door as hard as he could, only for it to remain shut.

"Roy! It's jammed!" Roy, who finally reached Wally, yank on the door. The care was almost entirely under water now, and from inside the car, Dick's lips began to turn blue from the November water. "Roy! He's dying!" Wally's voice cracked as he called to his younger 'brother.' Roy yanked harder, and heard a pop as his shoulder dislocated. The door's hinges came loose and it swung open harshly under the force of the current.

Swimming inside the damaged vehicle, he furiously tried to free his bird. Pulling on the seatbelt, he found it completely stuck. Mumbling very graphic words in his head, he struggled to the front of the car. Opening the front compartment, he pulled out a pocketknife. The car was now fully underwater and Roy battled to hold in his breath.

Slicing through the seat belt, the archer held Dick to his chest as he began to swim out of the water. The car had gotten closer to the bottom and the top looked miles away. Roy kicked and kicked, but found that without the use of his arms and the weight of dick, his ascent was slow paced. He was struggling to breath, and it had been at least two minutes since Dick was fully submerged.

He needed to hurry.

Roy felt the water around him move quickly and looked to see his other brother come to his side. Wally grabbed onto the lower half of Dick and he speedster and the two swam to shore.

Laying Dick on the sand, Roy felt for a pulse. None.

"Shi-"

"Roy! I-I don't know CPR!" Wally stampered. Roy took a quick glance to see if that was because Wally was scared, or cold. Probably a mix of both.

Placing his palms on the twelve year old's small chest, he pushed and started counting.

"1...2...3...4...5...6...7..." When he reached 30, he checking again for a pulse. He placed his hands in position again and called out to the speedster.

"Wally! Call 911, o-or the League! 1...2...3...4...5...6...7…8-" suddenly, Dick began to cough up water. Wally, who had just finished calling the League and an ambulance, rushed to the others' sides.

"Dick! Oh my god! You - you were dead, but Roy saved you, and holy _hell_ you're alive!" Wally hugged his younger brother and Dick hugged back, weakly. Or rather, he tapped his hand limply against Wally's back, in a make-shift hug. Wally let go when Dick began to speak.

"R-Roy, I-I died?" He asked, coughing in between words.

"Yeah," Roy replied, with a quick smile. The red head then suddenly felt two small arms wrapped around his torso, and looked down to see his little brother, with tears in his eyes.

"D-don't l-leave."

"Why would I do that?"

Dick hugged tighter, and Roy leaned down to whisper softly in his ear."I won't leave. I promise."

* * *

Roy Age: 19

Wally looked the package in front of him. The seventeen year old let out a shaky breath. It was dark, in the middle of the night, and he honestly didn't if anyone saw him. His face was pale, and the purple and blue bruises stuck out sharply. There were noticeable dark bags under his eyes; his hair was a mess, and tear streaks were visible on his cheeks. His limbs were sore, and his dislocated shoulder was numb. He knew he had super-healing, but the injuries weren't what hurt him. It was the mental scars.

"_You were a mistake, Wallace! You are a goddamn mistake!"_

He took out a lighter.

"Thanks, I know."

"_I oughta kill you for ever being born!"_

He opened the package.

"Go ahead."

"_Useless!"_

He took out a cigarette.

"I am aware of that."

"_Worthless!"_

He put the cigarette in his mouth.

"Please don't remind me."

"_Pathetic excuse for a son!"_

He lit the cigarette.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

Tears were his eyes, and he didn't bother brushing them away. He didn't even notice his crying. The memories were so bad. So scarring. So reminding. He knew he was bad. He knew he deserved the beatings. He wanted to tell Dick and Roy so badly, but he couldn't. They would hate him. They would be mad. He just wanted all the pain to stop- but he knew it couldn't . He knew he needed it.

He knew that his father's words were true.

He was on top to Mount Justice. He knew he was supposed to be at home, and his father would be made at him because he left.

Wally's clothes smelled of smoke. His loose, orange tee-shirt had small drops of blood on the collar, from a previous bloody nose. His jeans were torn in random places, and his shoes were completely worn out. His family had never been the richest, and Wally knew that. However, he could never afford new clothes, so his torn jeans and shoes were nothing new. His bruises on his face were going to heal in a matter of hours, but he still felt the pain of when they were inflicted upon him.

His father knew of his 'extra curricular activities.' He knew that he was Kid Flash. He knew that Wally didn't go to basketball practice. Wally didn't play basketball. His father had been so mad- he was so mad at him.

"_You are a disgrace to this family! You liar! Your a mistake, Wallace! You are a goddamn mistake!"_

_Hit, after hit, after hit._

"_You lied to your own parents! After all we've done for you! I oughta kill you for ever being born!"_

_Slap, after slap, after slap._

"_You go off saving the world when you can't even clean your own room? Useless! You hate us, don't you? DON'T YOU? Answer me, Wallace!"_

"_N-no s-sir." Tear streamed down his face._

"_Liar!"_

_Punch, after punch, after punch._

"_You are a worthless child!" Wally was now backed up against a wall, and his father raised a broken beer glass, the sharp edges pointed at Wally's face. He felt his father yank his right arm, and he cried out in pain as it dislocated. The living room was trashed, couches, chairs, broken tables, and beer bottles littered the floor._

_His father aimed a punch at his nose, and instinctively, Wally ducked. He got up, and stared at his father. A hole was in the wall were he once stood. His father's eyes widened a fraction, full of surprise, but only for a split second. A split second was all the time in the world for a speedster. They almost immediately returned to rage-filled, and his father growled._

"_I-I'm s-sorry!" His father twisted his dislocated shoulder, and Wally screamed loudly. "P-please! P-please d-dad!" Kick, after punch, after hit, after slap, after throw. It went on and on, and on. And Wally, although strong enough to run away, let it all happen._

"_You are a pathetic excuse for a son!"_

_He deserved this._

He deserved this.

"Wally!" Wally jerked his head around, and saw Roy running towards him. The archer grabbed Wally's pack and threw to who knows were. He shoved the cigarette out of the speedster's mouth, and without words, pulled Wally into a tight hug. Wally was now aware of the sobs he sounded. He was aware of the tears flowing freely down his face, and soaking Roy's shirt. "It's okay, Wally. It's okay." Wally choked on a sob.

"It- it hurts, Roy."

"I know."

"I want it to stop."

"Wally-"

"I want it to stop. I want it to end. I want to die." Roy stopped hugging Wally, and cupped the younger's face in his hands. Green eyes met green, and the locked eyes.

"No. No. Don't you say that." Roy's voice became shaky as he held down tears. "Don't you ever. Don't you _dare_ say that. You and Dick? You guys are my brothers. You guys mean the world to me. You're the most important things in my life. Don't ever say you want to die. You deserve to live. You deserve to be happy." Wally was sobbing loudly now, and he shook his head.

"I-I deserve it all! I deserve to die! I deserve what he does to me!"

"No, Wally! Damnit! You're an amazing person. I know that. Dick knows that. Artemis and Barry, they know that too. No one deserves the kind of pain your father gives you. No one should have to feel like they are worthless. Okay Walls? Okay?" Wally nodded his head, and Roy hugged him tightly. He began to cry into the older's shirt. Roy didn't say anything, if it bothered him. Wally didn't know how Roy knew about the abuse, but at the moment he didn't care. They stayed in that position for a while, just hugging each other like they only had a few minutes to live.

"Roy?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't leave."

"I promise. Walls. I would never leave you."

* * *

Roy Age: 21

Dick sat on the roof of Wayne manor, it was sunset, and no one was there to see him. Alfred and Bruce were out of town with Cass and Damian. Tim was on a date with Stephanie, and Barbara was at the mountain with the team. He was alone.

He was alone a lot these days.

It had been about a week since he had last seen his family. Tim and Barbara practically lived at the mountain.

It had been a few days since he last ate.

He pulled out the blade from his pocket.

Then suddenly, there was the all too familiar feeling against his wrist. Cool metal, pushing against the skin.

"_Grayson! Hey faggot! You're ugly."_

One cut.

"I know."

"_You're a fat, ugly, overweight mistake!"_

One cut.

I know.

"_Hey charity case! Bruce hates you."_

One cut.

"I know."

"_Hey circus freak! You're parents were glad they died! They hated you!"_

One cut.

"I know."

"_Hey orphan! It's you're fault they died."_

One cut.

"_I know."_

"_Go kill yourself."_

"Okay."

He began to slash his skin multiple times, over and over. Blood was everywhere, but he didn't care. No tears came, no cries, no pained expressions. Nothing. He felt nothing.

He needed to feel the pain.

He began to continue slicing open his arms, and he begged for the pain.

"Hurt. Please. Why can't it hurt!? Give me pain! Let me die! PLEASE!"

"Dick!" A hand grasped his right arm. "Give me the blade." He was weak, and dizzy and he wasn't able to fight back. He struggled, and screamed, frantically trying to get out of his grasp.

"STOP! STOP! LET GO! LET ME GO!"

"Dick! Dick, it's okay! Look at me! Look at me!" Dick, reluctantly, stopped struggling and turned to face the man behind him.

Roy.

"_Roy_," he breathed out. "Roy- I- I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry. I'm really-" He then suddenly remembered the cuts. The blood. It was everywhere. "Oh god. Oh my god. I am so sorry. Crap. I- I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't think. I just- I just wanted- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Roy. I didn't- Please don't tell. Oh man, I just- I didn't- Please-" tears began to slide down his cheeks, and the whites of his eyes turned a light pink.

"Shh, Dickie-bird. It's okay. It's okay now." Dick breath caught up with itself, and he coughed violently. Afterwards, Roy brought the crying sixteen year old to his chest. There was blood all over the teen's sweatshirt, and arms. There were so many cuts. So many… "Dickie?" Dick sniffled in response. "Dickie, why did you do this?"

"...I needed it."

"Needed what?"

"The- the pain. I _deserve_ it."

"What? No. No, you don't deserve this! You never deserved this!"

"I needed the pain. I needed to be punished."

"Punished for what?"

"For being ugly. For being fat. For being born. For being a horrible friend. For being worthless, and stupid. I make mistakes. I killed Jason and my parents, and every damn person I try to save." Dick was sobbing into Roy's sweatshirt. Roy didn't say anything about it. He let the younger just sit there, and sob. He let the younger let everything out, every emotion, every feeling he kept hidden. "I just wanted it to stop! I just wanted to stop breathing. I just want to go home, Roy. I just want to go home."

"This is your home, with Bruce, and Tim, and Cass, and Damian, Stephanie, Alfred, and Barbara."

"No, Roy. I just want to go home. To my real home. I want to be with my parents again."

"You will see them again. But now's not the time. You have me, and Wally, and Barbara, and Tim and Bruce... and it's going to be okay. You are _not_ worthless. And you are _not_ a horrible friend. You're the smartest kid I know, and you're are not a mistake. You did _not_ kill Jason. You are _not_ ugly, you're beautiful. I know you have been starving yourself, and you are no where near fat. And you definitely did not kill your parents. If your parents saw what you've done in life, they'd be so proud. They are proud. I am sure of it. We are all proud." His wrist was soaked with blood, and Dick's blue sweatshirt was almost entirely red. "We need to go get you fixed up. Okay?" Dick nodded in response. "Everything's going to be okay, Dickie. You're going to be just fine." The two stood up, and Dick fell over from starvation, dizziness, and blood loss.

Picking the younger up, Roy began to walk down to the Batcave.

"Roy?" Dick mumbled, words slurred.

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave."

"I would never leave you, my little bird. I promise."

* * *

Roy Age: 19

Roy's head hurt.

He had just wanted the pain to stop.

He had just wanted to let go of everything. He hadn't meant for this to happen.

But here he was, with an unhealthy addiction.

Wally.

He need to go tell Wally about this.

But he found Wally smoking.

Wally's troubles came first.

* * *

Roy Age: 21

Roy still felt the pain.

He didn't mean for it too get this bad.

He had just wanted to rid of his worries. He hadn't meant for this to happen.

But here he was, with an uncontrollable addiction.

Dick.

He needed to tell Dick about this.

But he had found Dick attempting suicide.

Dick's troubles came first.

* * *

Roy Age: 23

Roy was tired.

He made the pain stop, though.

He made the pain go away. He was happy.

Here he was, with a deadly addiction.

But at least the pain stopped. At least he was free.

At least he would finally be okay.

A knock came at his apartment door. Roy was too tired to get up and answer.

"Roy? It's Dick."

"And Wally." Oh no. No. No. No they couldn't be here.

"Roy? We know you're in there. Look, we're coming in, okay?" Dick said, his voice clueless to the situation. The door to his apartment opened, and the ninja and speedster were met with darkness. "Yeesh, Roy. Ever heard of lighting? Oh crap- what is that smell?" Wally and Dick walked into the living room, and turned on the the light.

The old, musty couch had a cockroach on the armrest, and the TV had beer bottles on the ground around it. Old packs of cigarettes were on the coffee table, which was partly broken, empty. A lighter was by them, clearly it had been well used. The air was so thick and musty you could practically see it. Dirty clothes with multi- colored stains were scattered on the floor, and ripped magazines lined the walls. The light switches were all broken in half, and the lamps all had shattered bulbs. The ceiling fan didn't even stand a chance of being able to turn. Dust covered mostly everything in the room.

Roy wasn't in the living room.

The two heroes entered the kitchen. The light switches were also broken, and the stove and microwave no doubt had bug infestations. Blades and knives coated in red were on the kitchen table, which had a vast amount of old food cartons on it as well, and they were obviously well used. The counters had splashes of blood and food every spot or so, and rags coated in red were on the chairs and floor around the table. Rusty pots and pans were on the stove, and no doubt had been there for weeks. Dust also covered most things in this room as well.

The two walked out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. They saw Roy's frame on the bed. "Oh, there you are. Hey, Roy, we, uh, we need to talk to you about something." Wally flicked on the lights, and the two gasped at the sight in front of them.

Rushing to the bed, the shoved off dirty clothes and old food cartons. Wally and Dick both climbed on either side of Roy.

"Roy? Roy are you okay?" Wally asked, so sincerely. Roy was so sorry.

"W-Walls? 'S okay. I-It's going to be okay..." Tears were spilling out the speedster's eyes, and he began to choke on his own words. Roy was crying too, and Dick stared as it all went down.

"Roy? Don't die yet, okay? I'm calling the League," Wally cried as he spoke and pressed on the com. unit in his ear.

" 'M tired, Walls," Roy slurred.

"Please, Roy. Please stay awake. You're going to be okay." Wally was sobbing, and suddenly Dick was too.

"D-don't cry. 'M sorry…" Roy half closed his eyes and Wally screamed.

"ROY! Stay awake. Stay awake. For me. Can you do that? Please?" Roy didn't answer. "Please!" Roy still didn't respond. "Roy, answer me! Roy!" Roy nodded faintly, and Wally and Dick sighed in relief. He was still alive. Roy was crying.

" 'M sorry, guys. I didn't mean to make you cry. 'I Sh'da died sooner. You guys sh'dn't have gotten 'tached to me. I'm sorry." Roy knew he was high. He knew he had done something wrong. He was always doing something wrong. He was making his own brothers cry.

"Roy it's going to be okay. Don't talk like that. Just stay awake. Okay?" Wally was sobbing loudly, and Dick just sat there, crying.

"I don't wanna…"

"NO! Roy! No, you are not leaving us! You are too valuable. You are too important! You are my brother, Roy. Brothers don't leave each other!" Wally hugged Roy's large frame, and sobbed into the eldest's chest. "Please, Roy… I can't do this without you…"

"Roy?" Dick's voice cracked as he spoke, and he fought back tears. Dick was crying. Oh man, he had made Dick cry. He made Dick cry. He made his own brother cry.

"Dickie.."

"Roy. Don't leave yet. You promised me you wouldn't leave. Don't leave." Roy fought back dizziness as he sat up slightly, and he scrunched his eyes closed with the dizzy spell that hit him.

"I would never leave you Dickie bird. I promise." Dick rushed to hug his two brothers and sobbed loudly as they all let the tears fall. It was okay to cry now.

The three stayed like that, hugging eachother as if their lives depended on it, as they fell asleep.

It had been the best sleep Roy had in years.

That was how Dick and Wally woke up, and saw Roy's lifeless body-

With a smile spread across his face.

* * *

Roy Age: 23

Wally walked up to the large gravestone. He had no flowers, he had on no suit and carried not black umbrella. There had been no rain at the funeral. There had been no clouds. It had been sunny, bright, and people still cried.

Wally hadn't cried at the funeral.

Now, here he was, alone, and a melancholy expression.

He sat down at the gravestone, in his green sweatshirt and gray jeans.

"Roy." He breathed out, like the word itself weighed a thousand pounds. "I just wanted to say- I'm sorry. I don't know why I am apologising. Maybe because I hadn't gotten there fast enough, or maybe because I hadn't ever gotten the slightest hint you had an addiction. Life is funny, you know? I mean, you wake up each morning, thinking you will live forever, even though in the deep of your heart, you know you're doomed. We will all die, sooner or later. I'll die eventually. Dick'll die, and you will too. The only thing is, your death happened sooner rather than later.. I honestly think that perhaps this is why I cannot find myself to cry.

I'm not a believer in magic. Never have been, and you knew that. And I'm not religious either. I don't believe in God, or that some people are doomed to Hell and others go to Heaven. I always believed that you simply cease to exist when you die. But now… now I'm not so sure. I can't fathom the fact that you simply don't exist anymore. I can't just erase you from my life. Here I am acting like a fool in front of a gravestone; but..." He let out a shaky breath, "you promised. Now you're gone and I'm confused and I don't know what to think. So please; stay.

You were too important to just stop existing. And now, I have no clue as to what to do anymore.

Anyway, so you know that I moved out about a year ago, with Artemis. And now We have an apartment. But- I had gone to see my mom. She missed me, and told me Dad had gone out of town, so it was okay to come home. So I did.

We were talking and catching up, when Dad came home. He saw and freaked out. He just- he flipped. He began beating me, and- and he got a gun.

He pointed it at me, and Mom just sat there, sitting on the floor, sobbing into her hands. Dad pointed the gun at my head and pulled the trigger, and I just froze. I didn't run. I didn't do anything.

Barry came rushing in, and Mom was sobbing and Barry and Dad were fighting, and Barry pushed me out of the way. Dad went to jail, and Mom was divorced. I was so happy, ya know? My dad finally went to jail.

But I wasn't happy. I don't know why. But I was just so sad about the whole thing. It was because he was still my dad. He had beaten me, neglected me, threatened me, and tried to kill me, and yet, if he was at gun point, I would've save him. He was a monster, and I would've saved him.

Does that make me a monster too?"

Wally then got up, and walked away. And if you looked close enough, you would have noticed a package of cigarettes in his sweatshirt pocket.

Wallace West went missing that night. The police never found him.

* * *

Roy Age: 23

Dick walked up to the gravestone. He had no flowers, he had no suit, he had no black umbrella or tears on his face. He had no expression, and he had no story to explain.

He hadn't gone to the funeral, he didn't want to think of his older brother as dead.

It had been a week since the funeral, a week since Wally was reported missing

Dick was wearing a black sweatshirt, and had the hood over his face. He had on black skinny jeans, and bracelets covering his wrists and forearms.

He sat at the gravestone and stared at it, emotionless.

"The team hates me. I lied to them. They hate me. After you're funeral, they confronted me. Gar was so mad. He was crying and he told me if wouldn't care if I killed myself. He told me that I should go and kill myself anyway, that i was a liar, a pathetic, worthless person. The team was shocked, and they told him to stop yelling at me. I told them it was okay. I told them it was okay, and that he was right. I looked at him and told him I already knew that, and that I had tried to kill myself, and it didn't work. I told him you stopped me. I told them you were gone now, though. Gar told me he was sorry. I told him he didn't have to lie.

You promised, Roy.

You said it was going to be okay, and that you were here for me, that you'd always be there. You said you wouldn't leave. You promised!

You and Wally were the only reasons I was still alive.

Now you are both gone, and after you promised.

I'm not mad. Should I be mad? I want to yell and cry and scream and shout how much you hurt me, but I can't. After you left me, I can't find a reason to be mad. I fought all my internal monsters and you were always by my side, telling me you'd always be there. Now the monsters are back, and I let them consume me.

Does that make me a monster?"

He then got up and left. No tears were shed. He had simply told Roy the truth, and left. And as he left, if you looked close enough, you would have seen the scars under the bracelets, and the new ones added over the old; and you would've seen the blade in his sweatshirt pocket.

That night, Richard Grayson died. He committed suicide.

"**The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered...We know that. And yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human. But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful."**

―**Elizabeth Edwards**

**Fin.**


	2. Forget

"**The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before."**

―**John Green, **_**The Fault in Our Stars**_

Wally stared at the scene before him with an emotionless expression. He did not grieve. He did not cry, he did not send flowers to the family, he did not whip out the box of cigarettes he still had, because what had happened was in the past. He shouldn't waste his time on remembering the past, especially the saddest memories.

So he didn't know why he found himself at the Star City Cemetery that day. He did not have a reason to be there.

Well, he did have a reason, but he didn't understand why he followed that reason.

It was December, of 2019- three years to the date of Roy's and Dick's death.

Gray snow covered the ground, adding to the already depressed aura whilst white, pure snow littered the streets outside the cemetery gates. A large black, granite tombstone was placed, along with flowers of reds and yellows and greens scattered the ground around it.

_Roy Harper_

_1993-2016_

_Brother, Friend, Son_

_Hero_

_Rest in Peace_

Wally thought it was stupid. Why buy such a big tombstone, why remember him? Why grieve over the horrors of the past? It was stupid.

So he didn't know why he found himself at the Star CIty Cemetery. Roy was only a haunting memory, plaguing his dreams with that sickening, happy smile he died with.

He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to forget.

Yet somehow, he found himself on his knees in front of that mocking tombstone, crying.

He didn't know why he was crying.

He didn't want to. He didn't need to. He just wanted to forget.

"Just let me forget. I can't deal with this pain." He breathed out his words, so quiet he wasn't sure he even heard himself. But what he said was true. It was true to it's purest form, and Wally knew that. "I want to stop crying. I don't have any reason to cry. It's pointless to grieve the dead. It won't make you or Dick come back." However, no matter how much he told himself that, he couldn't stop the tears that streamed down his pale cheeks.

With any luck, the tears would wash away his freckles. His once vibrant green eyes were now dull, and his bright red hair was now a sickening pale. He looked completely different, he wanted to be a different person. Maybe if those damn tears would wash away his sorrows, then he would finally be a different person. He didn't want to be Wally West. He wanted to be dead. He wanted the pain to stop.

"Please, make it stop. I don't know why I didn't off myself with Dick." His trembeling hands flew to his mouth the second he heard the words escape his mouth. how could say that? He was praising Dick for being a coward. For making the pain go away. For being to afraid to continue living.

Dick gave up. Wally didn't want to do that.

Yet, somehow, he found himself mumbling 'sorry' over and over at the thought of Dick like that.

Dick wasn't the coward. He was.

He was too scared to make it go away. He was too scared to die. He didn't know if he would forget all about Roy and Dick in death, or if he would see them in heaven. Either way, he was scared. So he left Central City and moved away, away from Artemis, Barry, Iris, Rudolf, everyone. He went of the grid. He hid from everyone.

He couldn't bare to see the look of shame on their faces if they ever found out what he did.

He couldn't take the pain. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to stop so bad, and yet he didn't know what would happen if he died, so he never made the pain go away. He didn't know if you simply ceased to exist, or if you went to Heaven, or what.

He wanted to know.

He needed to know.

Dick didn't know. He just went for it. He was in too much sorrow to continue and he didn't care what would happen once he died. He simply just did.

Wally wanted that kind of courage.

"Please, come back."

He was alone.

"Why didn't you stay?"

At that moment, Wallace West wanted nothing more than to know the answer to that question. The same question had been ringing in his ears, consuming his thoughts, for the past three years. He was tired of waiting for an answer. He wanted to know. He needed to know. But sometimes, the things we want most are the things out of reach.

"Please stay, Roy. I miss you."

… … …

Roy wasn't coming back. Wally knew that. So he didn't know why he visited again one year later. The scene was the same, the flowers had the same scheme, the snow was a thickening gray, and Wally wanted nothing more than to go home and forget.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget.

So he didn't know why he found himself at the Star City Cemetery that day.

His hair was even duller, his cheeks red from crying, his skin a sickly pale, and his eyes were nothing but a dull gray that didn't have a place in the world. His sweatshirt was far to big on him because of his skinny frame, but still in the pocket was a pack of cigarettes. Worn down to nothing.

He took out a cigarette, and lit it. Sitting criss crossed in front of the tombstone, he stared up at the piece of granite as it loomed over him. He only wished the tombstone would swallow him whole. Maybe in death he would forget.

But maybe in death he would remember. He was still scared.

"I need to know why I can't do it, Roy. I need to know why I can't forget. Why I can't be brave. Why I can't just end my pain. I want to be with you, I want to see you. I want to see DIck. I want to be happy, and I want to hold you in my arms and cry. I don't want to be lonely. "

He held the cigarette to his lips, and did what he did best.

He did stupid actions.

He smoked.

"I need to know," his voice strained. "I need to know why you left me alone. I need to know why you broke your promise. I need to know-

Why didn't you stay?"

… … ...

Five years and he was still remembering. He still couldn't forget.

Five years of nightmares. Five years or pain. He wanted the pain to go away. HE wanted to be okay.

He didn't visit the grave this year. He didn't want to sit there and ask a question, never to be answered.

He was tired of having false hope.

Roy was gone.

Dick was gone.

He needed to get used to that fact.

But as he sat on his old couch, cigarette in hand, he couldn't help but ask, to the world around him,

"Why didn't you stay?"

… … …

Six years.

Six years.

Wally stared at the phone with an emotionless expression.

He knew why he couldn't die, and he couldn't be with Dick and Roy.

He knew why he couldn't give up yet.

Because others were giving up too, and he couldn't let them do that. He couldn't let them die. He couldn't let them give up too.

It's funny, he thought to himself. Suicidal people only tell other suicidal people that suicide is wrong. The world is a strange place. But others were giving up too, and he couldn't let them do that. He couldn't let them die. He couldn't let the give up too.

He knew why he had to stay. He was going to be like Roy was. He was going to save the broken souls, and patch them again.

Maybe things would be okay.

He dialed a number that hadn't be used in so long it felt foreign to his memory. After the third ring someone answered the phone.

"Hello?" Wally felt a tear roll down his cheek at the sound of her voice.

"H-Hey Artemis."

"**Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness in my soul. I find myself searching the crowds for your face - I know it's an impossibility, but I cannot help myself."**

― **Nicholas Sparks****,**_**Message in a Bottle**_

Fin.


End file.
